


you are my new dream

by sapphfics



Series: once upon a time... [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rapunzel Fusion, F/F, Fairy Tale Retellings, Lesbian Sansa Stark, i didn't want to clutter the tags but the stark family is there too i love all of them, i made a joke about a rapunzel au where sansa strangles a man with her hair and then this happened, this is the longest thing i've ever written i'm so sorry, upon reflection this is less 'rapunzel' and more 'tangled' But Still
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 04:17:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11843772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphfics/pseuds/sapphfics
Summary: Margaery swung her legs over the windowsill and put on her most charming grin only to be met with the girl within brandishing what appeared to be a butter knife.“Who are you?” She demanded, stepping out the shadows. “How did you find me? Did the Mad King send you here to finish the job?”Or: the Rapunzel au that only one person asked for. It's love at first recognition of the hostage situation.





	you are my new dream

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SourPuss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SourPuss/gifts).



> for robb,  
> this is the longest thing i have ever written and it started out as a joke. i hope you enjoy, nonetheless!  
> i love you!

She was born Sansa Stark of Winterfell and she did not open her eyes for many days.

The first person she ever laid eyes on was her mother, and Queen Catelyn felt happiness so great that it seemed as if the entire kingdom’s spirits were lifted instantly. That evening, King Eddard received a raven that his sister in law, Lysa, had found a new husband, and that they wished to visit them in the North. The King felt anxious about inviting someone he hardly knew into the very heart of his kingdom, but the Queen and her sister had not seen one another in quite some time and he felt it best that they be reunited under his roof where he could call on his guards should anything happen. If he would have known who Lysa had married sooner, he would have ignored her request and thrown the message in the flames.

For you see, the man who was now his brother in law, Lord Petyr Baelish, was deeply unpleasant and made most who were in his immediate vicinity feel the need to bathe for several hours in order to feel clean again. He reminded Eddard of a rat. The King could not begin to fathom how one managed to stand being in the same room as him, much less marry him for love. Once Baelish fancied himself in love with Catelyn, but it was not the kind of love she deserved. It was obsessive and the thought of him still leering at her so many years later still made Eddard’s skin crawl. He did not feel the slightest bit of sympathy for Baelish, even though it was the king’s own brother who had beaten him bloody. Still, he supposed he should feel glad that his sister in law had found some happiness.

He stood too close for comfort and stared at the baby the King held.

“She is very beautiful,” he told the King, quiet so that no one else heard him. “Just like her mother.”

When Catelyn entered the dining hall, she met Lord Baelish’s eyes and looked as if she wished to scream. But she held her tongue. She shook his hand so hard it was as if she were hoping to crack the bones within. She took a deep breath and sat down beside her husband. Eddard did not miss the knife his wife was hiding up the sleeve of her dress. He had never seen his wife so furious before. He began to feel ill at the thought of him staying in his castle any longer.

It was then he realised that Baelish was nowhere to be seen, nor was Lysa. That was when they heard the unmistakable cries of their newborn. The King and Queen raced to Sansa’s crib, flanked by armed guards. The last thing the King and Queen ever saw of Sansa was of her screaming in Baelish’s vice-like grip before he vanished into the night and the castle became as silent as the family’s crypt.

Their eldest sons, Robb and Jon, had tried to defend their sister by prying their father’s sword off of the wall but they were too small to hold the thing, much less use it. Robb had somehow managed to strike Baelish in the leg, drawing blood that still stained the carpet but it had not deterred him for long.

The King and Queen searched every inch of the Seven Kingdoms for both their missing daughter. They discovered Lysa’s corpse at the bottom of a creak but found nothing of Sansa or Petyr. Though some felt all hope was lost, the King and Queen still sent out knights searching for her, even after almost twenty years. Every year, on the princess’s birthday, The Queen lit a candle in the window, along with the rest of the kingdom, as they all held onto the hope that someday, she would find her way back home.

//

Alayne had the same routine for as long as she could remember. She would awaken with the dawn, clean the tower from top to bottom, and then she would brush her hair and perhaps read one of the only three books she owned for what felt like the hundredth time, and be asleep by the moonrise.

Her tower was what was left of a place once called King’s Landing. She had known nothing else, the world below was too dangerous for a traitor’s daughter.

Alayne only asked him about her parents once. She had been six years old and stupid. She still shivered as she recalled his response.

“The Mad King Eddard Stark burned your parents alive, but I saved you. You must stay here, or else he will find you and you shall suffer the same fate.”

Sometimes, Alayne would stare out of the only window and make-up stories about the people below her. Were they trying to fight the king’s tyranny? Were they as frightened as her? Or, were they braver than she and standing up for themselves? She liked to think it was the latter, but she had never known anyone but Petyr. If all below were anything like him, she was glad to only know him.

(Alayne did not understand how people ruled through fear as though it built loyalty. If she were Queen, she would make the people love her. For surely, love was stronger than fear.)

On that fateful morning, however, Alayne chose to sing instead.

//

It was the singing that drew Margaery to her first.

Well, that was only partly true. It had been her direwolf, Lady, who had first heard the sound and had sped towards the source of it so fast it had almost caused Margaery to tumble off of her back. Margaery had never seen her run so fast. At first, she thought they were being ambushed by a pack she simply hadn't noticed and had drawn her brother’s sword in the commotion.

“Lady, what’s the matter?” Margaery asked as she climbed from her back into unfamiliar territory. “Are you tired? We have a council meeting, you realise, and the faster we get it done the sooner we can sl -”

Margaery felt her words trail off as she gasped at the sight before her. It was a tower, surrounded by lush green grass and a waterfall that shimmered in the light, and wondered how it was possible she had never seen this part of the forest before. Was she the first? But Lady seemed anything but awed. She seemed extremely nervous. Lady took Margaery’s sleeve between her teeth and moved them closer to the tower, as though she wanted Margaery to see something important.

“Lady, what in the seven hells are you -”

But Lady’s eyes widened in horror as when she saw the man below the tower. Margaery felt uneasy too and she could not explain why. On instinct, Margaery hid them both. For once, she felt lucky to be so small, as it was quite an easy fit. She stroked a hand over Lady’s back in a vain effort to calm her.

“Lady,” she whispered. “Is that...Petyr Baelish? It can’t be, can it?”

Lady only growled in response. Margaery had never met the man in person, but his face had been planted on every wanted poster in Winterfell for years. If this was really him, his hair had greyed considerably. She had never quite believed the rumours that those who were unlucky enough to be in his presence felt the need to rip off their own skin, but now she was not so sure. She was glad her brother had insisted on bringing the sword, that her grandmother had insisted she at least be capable of defending herself.

“Alayne,” he barked. “Let down your hair.”

 _How would she even hear him?_ Margaery wondered. She watched as a rope fell from the only window. No, she realised, it was too red to be a rope. It looked as though it were the girl’s own hair. Margaery watched as it fell from the window, as the man climbed it. The action was too fast to be voluntary. How such a worm of a man could be able to inspire fear in her, she did not want to know. Margaery felt such deep pity for her.

Margaery’s eyes narrowed, but she could barely see anything as the window felt as far away from her as the sky. She would have to wait for the awful man to leave before she could investigate further. She sighed.

 _Oh well,_ Margaery thought, _even if she is not who I suspect, perhaps I can at least help her escape that awful tower._

Although Margaery had spent considerable years as both a politician and a princess, fighting for the rights of the poor, she always felt as though she could be doing better. She wanted more. She wanted to live to see the day the King and Queen would be reunited with their lost daughter. She felt as though this was a chance to prove herself to whatever higher being might be watching over them.

She kept a hand on her sword and tried to make herself comfortable. It was going to be a long wait.

//

The only thing that made his visit bearable was the lemon cakes he brought her. Alayne had always loved lemon cakes, but she was afraid of what he wanted in return. She ran a hand through her hair. He had dyed it black many years ago, so long ago that she did not know it's original colour. He continued to do so, even after he found the tower, in case anyone found them. 

She smiled at him. He was always kinder when she smiled.

“Good morning Petyr,” she said. He smiled at the sound of his own name. “How was your day?”

“Boring, as always,” he said, truthfully, collapsing on the seat. She found that the truth was always either terrible or boring. He embraced her and she considered pushing him out the window. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” she lied, and turned from his embrace to put away the food he had brought. “It’s my name-day soon.”

“It is,” he said. She could feel his eyes on her, suspicion clear in his voice. “That’s why I brought you the lemon cakes. What is it you want that you do not have?”

At the moment, she thought spitefully, peace and quiet.

“I wondered if...if I could go outside.”

His smile disappeared. “Alayne -”

“Only for a day, I promise,” Alayne knitted her hands together and sat beside him, as close as she felt safest. “I just want to see the candles, and feel grass. You could come with me if you -”

“I’m sorry, Alayne. It’s too dangerous for you, you know that. If the Mad King ever found you...I would never forgive myself. Besides, there is no one in the Seven Kingdoms who doesn't know of the traitor’s daughter. They would string you up the second they saw you, or worse.”

“Oh,” Alayne sighed and shut her eyes. If he saw her cry, he would know he had won once again. Everything was a game to him, and she always lost. She felt his hand on her shoulder and did not pull away even though she wanted to. “Alright then. Perhaps, you could get me some new quills. The kinds that keep for years.”

“That’s at least a several days journey,” he said. “But I will do it for you, my sweetling.”

She felt a real smile creep across her face and prayed that he would not try to kiss her today.

//

It was late evening when Baelish finally emerged from the tower. Margaery might have fallen asleep in the cool evening air, had she not been so filled with adrenaline. She saw his smirk and had half a mind to kill him right then and there, but he was gone before she could so much as blink.

So instead, she ran to the tower. She knew that if she fell at such a height, she would almost certainly die. But at the sound of Lady’s concerned whines, she felt a wave of courage rush over her. She was a princess. She had walked through fire and lived. She would not die today.

“Alayne,” she called. “Let down your hair?”

To her surprise, her plan worked exactly as she had hoped. Alayne’s hair was softer than she had imagined. She tried to be gentle as she made her way up to the window.

Margaery swung her legs over the windowsill and put on her most charming grin only to be met with the girl within brandishing what appeared to be a butter knife.

“Who are you?” She demanded, stepping out the shadows. “How did you find me? Did the Mad King send you here to finish the job?”

She put up her hands in a gesture of peace. A hazy memory washed over her. A darkened alleyway, a man dragging a girl about her age by the wrist. They had only met eyes for a second, but she had looked so scared. Margaery always regretted not being able do anything to help her. Was this really her?

“My name is Margaery Tyrell,” Margaery told her. “Please, put the knife down. I am here to rescue you. I’m a princess, you can trust me.”

Margaery put quickly scanned her surroundings. The tower, as she suspected, had neither doors nor stairs, hence the apparent need to use of the girl’s hair to come in and out. There was a rather limp looking tree in the corner of the room, and beside it, a bowl of rotting apples.

It was then that Margaery recognised her eyes. Blue as the sky at midsummer, almost identical to Queen Catelyn. It seemed as though the former lord’s prisoner bore an unmistakable resemblance to the still missing princess. Of course, if this really was Petyr Baelish, he must have kept her here for all these years. Just the thought of being trapped with him for so long made her want to wretch into the ugly flower pot.

“You - you are a real princess?” As soon as Alayne realised this, she seemed to calm down significantly, and lowered the knife. “I warn you, if this is some kind of trap...he will find out and kill you all.”

“Alayne, I promise you, we have no Mad King who wants your head,” Margaery took a step toward her, putting away her sword. “Even if we did, I would protect you.”

“Protect me?” Alayne scoffed. “No one can protect me. No one can protect anyone. He promised to protect my parents too and he watched them burn.”

“Alayne,” Margaery said. “I am not him, I swear it.”

“No, you are not.” Alayne relented. She pointed to the floor, which had painted to resemble a map and only view to the world beyond. “Where did you come from?”

“Highgarden,” Margaery said, showing her. “Why do you ask? Have you ever been there?”

“Curiosity, mostly. I’ve hardly been outside this tower,” Alayne said. “I had hoped to be able to go and see the candles tomorrow, but he forbids it.”

Their conversation was cut off by Lady’s barking. Alayne rushed to the window and squinted. The sunlight reflected in her eyes.

“Is that...a direwolf?” Alayne asked. It was the first time Margaery saw her smile, at the sight of her beloved companion. “I’ve only ever seen one in person.”

“That’s Lady. It’s thanks to her that I found you,” Margaery explained. “I believe she must be quite fond of you.”

Despite herself, Alayne giggled. “I hope I meet her standards.”

You are far above her standards, Margaery thought.

“I could take you,” Margaery offered. “To meet Lady, and to see the candles. If you wanted.”

Alayne considered it. “He’ll be gone for several days. Could you bring me back before he returns?”

“Of course,” Margaery felt deep sadness that she wished to return to this dreadful place. She did not voice it.

Alayne offered her hand. “Then what are we waiting for?”

//

Even as her feet first touched the ground, Alayne still braced her to wake up back in her bed. But even in her wildest dreams, she had never imagined she would actually leave the tower, but there she stood. She pinched herself and grinned when nothing changed.

Above her, Margaery, unused to such heights, lost her grip a foot or so from the ground. Alayne caught her and Margaery giggled and jumped from her arms.

With no-one to stop her, Alayne ran across the grass, soft beneath her feet, even though she no idea of where she was going.

“Wait for me!” Margaery called, laughing.

When they caught up to her, Lady’s mouth hung open to resemble a smile. Alayne laughed and stroked the direwolf’s soft fur.

“Sorry,” Alayne apologised. “I just - I was excited.”

“It’s alright, you don’t have to apologise,” Margaery assured her. “I understand. You haven’t had much freedom before, and you’re trying to make the most of it.”

Her tower was miles away from the candles, but Lady shortened the trip considerably. Throughout their journey, however, Margaery seemed troubled. When they stopped to rest for the night, Margaery built a small fire.

Alayne pat the space beside her. “Sit with me?”

Margaery did so. She realised it was most likely not her best idea to have built the fire, as she noticed Alayne staring into the flames as though they may jump out and swallow her alive.

Alayne seemed to notice Margaery staring and pried her eyes away.

“What’s wrong?” Alayne asked. “You’re worried about something, I can tell, what is it?”

“Where we’re going,” Margaery knotted her hands together, sighing. “There was a princess who was stolen many years ago. I have a strong suspicion...she is you.”

“What?” Alayne whispered. “You’re mistaken. It can’t be me. I’m not a princess, the king murdered my parents. You’ve got it wrong, I’m sorry.”

“You look like her,” Margaery explained. “A spitting image. There are artists who’ve imagined what she might look like and...you match. I’ll have to show you, when we get there.”

“Alright,” Alayne relented, still sceptical. “So, tell me more about this lost princess. Is her disappearance what caused the Mad King to lose his mind?”

“Alayne, our king is most certainly not mad, I assure you.” Margaery said. “If he were anything like your impression, I would not take you anywhere near him.”

“So, what is he like then?” Alayne asked.

“He and his wife have never stopped searching for their daughter,” Margaery felt Alayne move closer to her, to the fire. “Even now. It’s why they light the candles. They have five other children, who they love more than anything. Four boys and one girl, and an orphaned cousin who they took in, Jon. Robb, the eldest, who is the same age as Jon. Arya, their second daughter. Brandon, their second son, and Rickon, their youngest.”

“That sounds lovely. I always wanted siblings,” Alayne confessed, though she would never dream of putting another through what she had with him. “The tower got so lonely.”

“I’m sorry,” Margaery said, and took Alayne’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “But, look, you have me now. You don’t have to be alone anymore.”

“That...is all I’ve ever wanted,” Alayne smiled and Margaery returned one so bright it could replace all the stars in the sky. “Now, what shall I do with the rest of my life.”

You could spend it with me, Margaery thought. I wouldn’t mind. I want very much for you to be happy.

Alayne fell asleep with her head on Margaery’s shoulder, as she watched the firelight dim out to a starless sky.

//

Morning found their hands still locked, their heads resting on Lady’s side, softer than feathers. Alayne couldn’t remember a time she had felt so happy. Margaery rubbed sleep from her eyes and smiled at her.

Unsure of what to do without her routine, Alayne decided to throw caution to the wind and took a swim in the river. She may have feared fire, but water had always calmed her. She soaked her hair and let it dry in the morning sun.

“I realised, I never asked you about your family,” Alayne mentioned, as they made their journey North, trying to sound as casual as possible. Her hair, she noticed, looked red. “What are they like? If you don't mind me asking, obviously.”

“Not at all,” Margaery said. “I have a brother, Loras, and my grandmother, Olenna. You should meet them one day. I have a feeling they would like you very much.”

What about you, though? Do you like me? Alayne wondered. She knew better than to voice these questions. She wondered why she cared so much. She had known Margaery for so little time, but she had already been treated with far more kindness than throughout her entire life. The sun was high in the sky today, making Margaery’s hair almost appear to glow.

With Margaery beside her, she no longer feared fire, or her father, or anything at all. She felt strong.

As they dismounted from Lady, Margaery squeezed her hand, and together they made their way towards a castle atop a hill.

Alayne had only ever seen castles in loose sketches in books. She had considered them to be ugly drafty-looking buildings that always seemed as though they were on the verge of collapse at the slightest gust of wind. It was one of the few times she had ever felt fortunate for the tower, with its stable brick walls. She found herself wanting to explore, to climb the walls, to find every hidden passage, not unlike the heroes in her books. But she noticed that it was not the castle itself Margaery was leading them towards.

There was a painting on the side of castle, beneath a roof to protect it from the dreadful weather Alayne had heard the North often experienced. Margaery shivered and Alayne wrapped her cloak around Margaery’s shoulders.

“Take it,” Alayne assured her. “I’m not that cold.”

“My grandmother once told me that the Starks were made for the cold,” Margaery remarked.

“You were right,” Though Alayne had felt uncertain about Margaery’s claim, when she saw the girl in the painting she let her mouth hang open. She ran her fingers through her now red hair. “Your lost princess looks exactly like me...I believe you.”

“I would never lie to you, Alayne.”

A voice rang out from behind them, quavering. “Hello, Sansa.”

//

Admittedly, Margaery had some president to anticipate Queen Catelyn’s arrival. This was her home, after all. What she had not expected was to see Brandon Stark. The last she had heard, he had left Winterfell and he had told no one where he had gone.

“Ser Brandon,” Margaery curtsied. “This...this is my companion.”

“Hello Princess Margaery,” Brandon smiled at Alayne. “You brought Sansa home.”

“How do you know?” Alayne’s voice no longer held the doubt it once had. “Am I...am I truly her?”

“I am a seer,” Bran explained. “I might not have known where you were but...I knew I would see you again, and that I would somehow know it was you.”

This was far better than Margaery could have ever hoped for.

//

“Oh,” Alayne - Sansa - said. Without another word, she ran toward Bran and hugged him fiercely. It was as though she had finally awoken from an awful nightmare to find herself safe with a family, a real family.

When she let go, she turned to Margaery, as though to reassure she had not forgotten she was there. “You don’t have to take me back to the tower anymore. I won’t go back. He can’t make me.”

It dawned on them both that they had no idea where he was, but at the moment, neither cared. She was home, and that was all that mattered. She had felt strong with Margaery, stronger still within the walls of Winterfell, even with a family she had never met. She wondered if her family had dreamed of what she would be like the same way she had dreamed they would.

She hoped they would like her, that she would not disappoint.

“Come on,” urged Bran, ushering her inside. “You should meet us all.”

“Can...can Margaery come with us?” She asked, hesitant. “She is the one who brought me back, after all.”

“I -” It was the first time Sansa had ever seen Margaery lost for words. “Are you sure?”  
“Yes,” Sansa said, bold as the direwolf that ran across her family’s sigel. Once again, she offered Margaery her hand.

“What are we waiting for?” Margaery grinned, and glanced toward the guards. “Tell the Starks their daughter is home.”

//

The three of them walked straight into the throne room. The second the guards had glimpsed Margaery and her companions, they parted like a hot knife through butter.

“Sansa?”

The Queen stood, as lovely as ever, even as she and her husband and children ran toward the child they were certain they would never see again. One by one, they hugged her as though they never wanted to let her go.

Margaery was sure that smile on Sansa’s face could make flowers grow in the harshest of winters.

“I’m home,” she said, as though she was still expecting this to be a dream.

Margaery did not let go of Sansa’s hand for a long time.

//

The evening was spent sitting at the hearth, sharing tales. Robb and Jon put effort into recreations of memories of their childhoods, including a particularly funny story which involved oats, a herd of angry cattle, and a curtain rail.

Sansa had never felt happier.

Night arrived, cold as the grave. Before Bran departed to bed, he lent her a dagger. He said it was because he could sense her unease. She was alone in the room she should have grown up in but she still couldn’t shake the lingering fear.

She did not see the shadow in the doorway until he was standing behind her. Sansa had anticipated his arrival, though, and used her newly sharpened knife to take out his kneecaps. He let out a scream. She heard footsteps rushing towards her.

She knew he would not be reasoned with. She could not let him live. She would not.

“I am Sansa Stark of Winterfell. This is my home, and you can’t frighten me.” With that, she took the knife from his knee and slashed his throat.

Her father was the first at the door. He gasped when he saw what she had done, and she felt her heart drop into her shoes. What had she done? Had she ruined her only chance? Would they hate her for this?

“I-” She felt hot tears prick in her eyes. She dropped the knife and let it clatter on the floor. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I had to...I just...I couldn’t let him hurt me anymore.”

“I would have done the same thing,” Catelyn confided, placing a hand on Sansa’s shoulder. Without thought, Sansa wrapped her arms around her mother’s neck and allowed herself to sob out of relief. “It’s alright, Sansa.”

Arya had her own sword. It was small, and named needle, though she hated sewing. Arya squeezed her sister’s hand. “You could sleep in my room, if you want.”

Before Sansa could answer, she heard another voice.

It was Margaery. Evidently, she had rushed to Sansa the second she heard the scream, still in her nightgown and a stolen pair of her brother’s shoes. They were far too large and she hoped she would not trip over.

She found her standing outside of her sister’s bedroom.

“Sansa,” She ran to her. “I only just heard about what happened. I..I hope you are alright.”

To her surprise, Sansa smiled. “I’ve never felt better.”

It was as if Margaery suddenly realised she had not thought this through. Granted, Sansa was unsure what she would have done had she been in actual harm. “I’m glad you’re alright.”

The guards carried out the body before Robb, Jon, and Rickon took any more chances to kick it.

Once they were sure she was alright, one by one, her family went back to bed until only Margaery remained.

“You could stay with me, if you want.” Sansa offered. “We could still have a few good hours sleep.”

“As you wish,” Margaery said, half-joking. In truth, Margaery never wanted to leave.

“I wanted to thank you,” Sansa said, as they lay together. The candlelight illuminated Margaery’s face, making her eyes shine as bright as the stars above. “For saving me, for bringing me home.”

“It’s Lady you should be thanking, my lady,” Margaery reminded her. “You sang your sweet song and she followed.”

“You saved me, Margaery,” Sansa said, and took her hand, intertwining their fingers. “You climbed the tower. You did not have to do that. It was very brave. I owe you a life debt.”

“You owe me nothing,” Margaery assured her. “I only wanted to bring you home.”

Margaery’s presence had changed everything.

“But you brought me so much more than that,” Sansa said. “You found me a home and my lost family. More than I could have ever dreamed.”

“I’m very glad,” Margaery said. “You seem much happier.”

“I am,” Sansa admitted. “Even more so, whenever you are around.”

A gentle breeze from the crack left in the window blew out the candle beside them.

She felt her heartbeat quicken, and Sansa used her free hand to cover her mouth. “I should not have said that.”

“Sansa…” Margaery whispered, so none but Sansa could hear her. “Some women like pretty girls and I...I like you more than I can possibly say.”

The moon shone, full and proud and beautiful. When Margaery kissed her softly, Sansa closed her eyes and tried to feel it. It was better than she had imagined.

Sansa felt that her grin was too large for her face to contain. “I feel the same.”

Outside, a bird began to sing.

**Author's Note:**

> comments appreciated!! ♥


End file.
